Title: Spin

Author: Hawk Clowd

Disclaimer: so far as I know, I own nothing. Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami and I wouldn't take it away from her for anything in the world. I just like to play.

Blood Type: I don't care... Something flammable, like hairspray. Simply because you could light a match and Ryuichi would be on fire.

Warnings: very few. Yaoi, which is a fairly obvious one, considering the fandom, random smut, and possible angst.

Archived: all of the usual places.

Part: Two

Author's Notes: Yeah, I'm really tired and didn't bother to proofread any of this before I posted it here. I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors you, as the reader, may find. Please let me know what needs to be fixed or if you have any suggestions for the next part, which will be coming along sometime soon (with any luck)!

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Ryuichi never really explained why, but once they left Eiri's apartment he decided that he really wanted to get a few drinks. So, after hitting up a few bars and three very expensive liquor stores in search of a decent bottle of wine, Ryuichi and Tatsuha finally reached the expansive pent-house flat Ryuichi called his own. The elevator was busy, so the two of them ran up nine flights of stairs, laughing and falling over themselves the entire time. When they did finally get up there, however, it took Ryuichi almost a full five minutes to find the key and undo the lock.

Throwing open the door, Ryuichi stepped back to let Tatsuha inside. "Here we are, na no da no da! Do you like it?"

"Sure do," Tatsuha answered before he even had the chance to look around. He paused when he actually caught a glimpse of the place. "It's really... Empty."

That was true enough. There was very little of anything in Ryuichi's house, really. The room seemed to be mostly bare, with the exception of a small desk and chair sitting near one window and several boxes littering the floor. It didn't really look like a home at all, Tatsuha noticed, but more like an old storage room or a Spartan hotel room. The only proof that it was actually lived in was, it seemed, the trashcan sitting underneath the desk, and that was only because it was practically overflowing from the massive amounts of crumpled and ripped paper it contained.

Tatsuha coughed. "Well," he began, "what now?"

Ryuichi held up the bottle of wine he held in his hand. "We should drink some of this!" he declared. "I like wine, do you? It tastes all sour and bitter, but it has a nice flavor. I've never tried this kind before, na no da, but someone once told me it was really really good! Let's try it!"

"Let's," Tatsuha agreed, grinning. He looked around. "Do you have any glasses?"

Ryuichi laughed. "What do we need those for? It just means that I've gotta wash them later and I hate doing that so I just let 'em sit in the sink and then if Noriko comes to visit she'll get all mad at me and go roar until they get clean! So let's just drink from the bottle! Can we, na no da?"

Tatsuha agreed to Ryuichi's request, unable to keep himself from laughing along with the singer, and so they hit the wine, passing the bottle back and forth. Each swig he took from the bottle loosened Tatsuha's tongue just a little more until he began saying more than he should have. The bottle was about half empty when Ryuichi stopped him.

"I think you've had enough, Tatsuha-kun," Ryuichi murmured.

Tatsuha looked up at his newfound friend, confused by the singer's sudden change in mood... and in character. He was momentarily taken aback; the man sitting in front of him now was hardly the same person he'd been singing and drinking with only a short time before. This was the man Tatsuha had worshipped for years, his God among men. This was...

Sakuma Ryuichi.

"Sakuma-san," Tatsuha whispered breathlessly. He could almost feel the air rushing out of his lungs as he stared into the singer's deep eyes. The man was wearing a rather stern expression and he looked rather...

"You've had enough to drink," he said again, taking the wine out of Tatsuha's hands and setting it to the side. "Let's do something else."

"What should we do?" Tatsuha asked weakly. Looking into the eyes of his God, he felt that perhaps he already knew the answer to that and his heart leapt into his throat. There was a slight gleam of mischief in the other man's eyes now, and it made Tatsuha just the slightest bit uneasy.

"Oh, I don't know," the singer answered quietly. He was stroking Tatsuha's arm gently with his fingertips, barely touching the boy. "We could watch some TV--the one I've got is huge and I have lots of videos for it, even though they're all in boxes and stuff. Or we could listen to some music. Unless you've got something better in mind?" he asked, voice trailing off.

"Nnn," Tatsuha responded smartly. "Sakuma-san, I want..."

"What do you want? If you don't tell me, I can't help you."

"I want you!" Tatsuha blurted out finally, unable to keep himself silent any longer. "I want to--"

The singer stopped him by placing a finger over Tatsuha's lips. "In that case," he murmured, "we should move to the bedroom and get more comfortable, don't you think?"

"Ye... Yes," Tatsuha responded in a strangled voice. He let Ryuichi stand him up and lead him to the bedroom; the singer didn't seem to mind the way Tatsuha stumbled over himself as he did. Ryuichi, who had consumed about the same amount of alcohol as Tatsuha, was walking backwards and never once lost his footing.

Stepping into Ryuichi's bedroom was much like stepping into an entirely different house. While the living quarters had been bare and hardly lived in, the bedroom was cramped and busy. There were pictures and posters hung up on the walls, a big bed, and dressers and nightstands scattered around. The bed was still made and it looked as though it hadn't been slept in for quite some time.

Ryuichi laughed a bit anxiously when he saw Tatsuha looking at the room. "Noriko-chan set this up for me before I moved in. It's not bad looking or anything, but I don't spend a lot of time in here if I can help it. It's too much."

"I like it," Tatsuha reassured him.

"That's nice." Twisting around, Ryuichi practically shoved Tatsuha onto the bed and then proceeded to strip the younger man of his shirt, placing kisses and bites on Tatsuha's bare chest. Hissing more in pain than in pleasure, Tatsuha arched backwards into the bed. He tried to reach over and grasp Ryuichi by the shoulders, but the singer always managed to evade his grasp.

Ryuichi fingered Tatsuha's belt buckle. When Tatsuha didn't tell him to back off, the singer removed it and then wrested off Tatsuha's pants, bearing down on Tatsuha's very much erect cock. Tatsuha was stunned. He was being sucked off by his God, by the famous Sakuma Ryuichi, almost as though Ryuichi was some sort of whore he'd picked up off of the streets. It was practically blasphemy what he was letting the singer do to him, but Tatsuha couldn't bring himself to stop it.

Just as he was about ready to explode, Tatsuha felt Ryuichi's hot mouth lift, leaving him open and vulnerable to the comparatively cold air. Tatsuha shivered involuntarily, thrusting his hips upwards in a futile attempt to recapture the warmth of Ryuichi's mouth. Ryuichi, of course, didn't let Tatsuha catch him. When Tatsuha looked over, the singer was trying to peel off his shirt, which fit him much like a second skin, so Tatsuha took the opportunity to reposition himself on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows.

Once Ryuichi had freed himself of his shirt and thrown it to the side, he looked at Tatsuha with a curious expression on his face. "So... How do you want to do this?"

Tatsuha blinked, stunned. Every time he'd imagined being intimate with Sakuma Ryuichi, he'd always been sober and he had always been the one in control of the situation. He was an Uesegi, after all, a man with a lineage infamous for its sexual prowess and dominance. He had, in the past, always been the one in control during sex and no one had even once tried to dispute the matter with him before. Granted, all of his previous sexual escapades had been with women, but the point remained. Things weren't exactly going his way this time, however. He was still buzzed, although he didn't think he was drunk anymore, and he hadn't been the one to initiate anything--Ryuichi had. It was the one thing that really told him that he wasn't dreaming, that this was really happening... And it was kind of nice.

"What do you want to do?" Tatsuha asked finally. He was afraid that if he gave Ryuichi the wrong answer that it would all be over before it had really even begun. He had the makings of a happy ending in his hands and he didn't want to ruin them.

Ryuichi gave him a suspicious look. "You've done this before, right?"

"Well, yeah. With girls." Tatsuha frowned. "Is that bad?"

"No." Ryuichi pondered for a moment, head tilting to the side in an adorable way that made Tatsuha almost squeal in delight. He quelled his fan boy instincts. "Well, how about we just keep it the way it's going, then?" Ryuichi asked, undoing the top button on his jeans as he eased onto the bed. "That okay?"

"That's fine," Tatsuha answered, eyeing Ryuichi hungrily. He just didn't care anymore.

"M'kay," Ryuichi murmured, pushing his pants down on his hips and exposing his half-hard cock. He looked around for something but quickly gave up his search, opting instead to ease Tatsuha into a position that would make him more available; Tatsuha let the man arrange his lower body so that it was raised slightly in the air with his legs hooking around Ryuichi's chest. It was a touch uncomfortable for Tatsuha to hold the position, but he decided, resolutely, that if Shuichi could put up with things like that, so could he.

"You called me your god," the singer said softly as he ran a hand over Tatsuha's chest. Tatsuha was too fascinated by the sight of the mostly-naked Ryuichi to respond to the words right away, so Ryuichi went on. "Why did you say that?"

"What do you mean?"

Pausing to position himself at Tatsuha's entrance, Ryuichi shrugged one shoulder. "Never mind," he said, pushing his way inside of Tatsuha, who cried out in pain as Ryuichi invaded his body.

When he was younger, Eiri had started walking around on the roof of the family temple whenever the other children were being cruel to him because of his appearance. He could only do it when their father was praying in the temple or when the old man wasn't home because he knew that he wouldn't be allowed to do it any longer. Mika and Tatsuha never told on him, but there was one time when their father came home while Eiri was up there and started asking after the elder son. Tatsuha had climbed up to the roof from Eiri's bedroom window, intending to find his brother and bring him back down to the house before their father found about it, but Tatsuha had lost his balance and fell off the roof, breaking his arm. It had happened a very long time ago, but Tatsuha could still remember the hurt--it had been a burning and insistent kind of pain that wouldn't stop, even after it had been put into a cast and Tatsuha had been given painkillers. Up until now, that was the worst pain he'd ever had to go through.

This was much, much worse.

"Shit," Tatsuha cursed.

Ryuichi smiled sympathetically. "Sorry."

"Isn't there something you're supposed to use in order to keep this from hurting so much?" Tatsuha asked between winces. He remembered seeing it in Eiri's bedroom on one of the few occasions he had found reason to slip into his brother's room.

"Don't got any," Ryuichi said with a slight grunt. "Relax or else you're going to end up hurting yourself even more."

It was hard, but Tatsuha willed himself to relax his body almost entirely, yet still keep in his position with his legs hooked around Ryuichi's back. Watching the younger man, the singer eventually nodded his approval.

"Good." Then, slowly, he began to pull out of Tatsuha, who was almost relieved when he did so, but before Ryuichi pulled away entirely, he pushed back in. Tatsuha balled the bedcovers up in his fists, holding back a sharp cry.

Ryuichi hissed. "I told you to stop tensing up like that," he scolded quietly. "It's not just you it's hurting."

"S... Sorry." Tatsuha eased into a more relaxed state of mind as well as he could. What was wrong with him? Here he was, finally kind of sort of living his lifelong dream, albeit with a few... modifications, and all he could think about was the pain. How did Shuichi stand doing this so often with Eiri? Tatsuha resolved that he would somehow manage to muster up a brand new respect for Shuichi after this.

"You're worrying," Ryuichi noted.

"Something wrong with that?" Tatsuha retorted, growing a touch offended.

Ryuichi sighed. "Maybe we shouldn't do this anymore." He eased out of Tatsuha then, and, this time, Tatsuha noticed something.

"Am I bleeding?" Tatsuha cried. "Out of my ass?"

"Just a little bit," Ryuichi said. "But that's not unusual or anything, since you're new at this. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--"

"Is there any more wine?" Tatsuha interrupted. There was just no way that he could deal with sympathy or apologies right then.

Ryuichi blinked at him and then nodded slowly. "I'll go get it," he said, leaving the room and gathering his clothes as he went. He returned soon after, fully clothed, with the wine bottle in his hand. He gave it to Tatsuha wordlessly and the younger man gulped from it, desperately trying to recapture his earlier buzz. It didn't work very well at all.

"Here are your clothes, na no da," Ryuichi murmured, holding out Tatsuha's pants and boxer shorts.

Tatsuha paused in mid-reach when he heard the end of Ryuichi's sentence. Shuichi had told him at least once before that Sakuma Ryuichi's mood swings almost made him seem as though he was two entirely different people, but Tatsuha had never put any thought into that. Now, however, he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to Ryuichi than there seemed to be.

"Hey..."

The singer looked at Tatsuha curiously. "What, you don't want your clothes?"

"That's... not what I was going to say." Tatsuha looked down at himself, realized he was not covering his modesty at all, and flushed, taking his clothes. The he coughed. "I just wanted to... Well, I wanted to ask you... Why?" He realized belatedly that he hadn't even begun to explain his thoughts and so he continued. "Why did we just... Was that really you, back then?"

Ryuichi looked confused. "Who else would it be?"

Tatsuha hesitantly decided to drop the subject. "Well, then... What now?"

The singer shrugged, laying down on the bed next to Tatsuha, arms behind his head. He gave Tatsuha a sideways look. "I could help you out with that," he said, pointing at Tatsuha's still obviously erect cock, which bulged beneath the pants he was trying to cover himself with. "It doesn't look very comfortable."

Tatsuha paused and shook his head. "I'll just go and use the washroom or something. That's not what I meant, though. I mean, what now? What happens next, to us?"

"We sleep; it's getting a little late, isn't it, no da? Tomorrow you'll go back to your brother's apartment and things go back to normal."

"Back to normal?" Tatsuha repeated.

Ryuichi nodded. "Mmhm." He yawned. "I'm tired."

"What do you mean by back to normal, though?" Tatsuha demanded.

The singer cracked one eye open. "Well, the schools in the Kinki precinct all go back in session in a week or two and so you'll be going back to Kyoto. And I've got a tour to prepare for and I promised Kumagoro we'd got to the museum sometime before that, even though I think that's going to be really boring for me, no da. That's normal, isn't it?"

Tatsuha nodded dumbly. "And you and I...?"

Ryuichi laughed. "Is that what you're all worried about, no da? Nothing's changed, Tatsuha-kun. We're still going to be friends, just like normal always! This isn't going to make things weird, I promise." He beamed. "You should come see our show when Nittle Grasper goes back to America in a few months! Can you get away from school for that, do you think? I can take you to see where I used to live and we'll go eat at a sushi bar! American sushi is funny because it's usually not as good as it is here, but I don't eat sushi a lot so I really don't know, but that's what Tohma tells me. I like the other stuff they have there, but they fry just about everything there--even rice! And ice cream! It's not good for you, but it's still tasty!"

As Ryuichi spoke Tatsuha felt his old dreams and his new hopes fall and crash to the ground, smashing into a million pieces. Had this encounter meant nothing to the singer? No, Tatsuha reasoned, it hadn't. And why should it? Ryuichi was a superstar, the idol of thousands upon thousands of people, and Tatsuha was nothing but a poor Buddhist monk with no glory or honor to his name. He was nothing to Sakuma Ryuichi.

"Hey," Ryuichi said, prodding the inattentive Tatsuha in the ribs. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Tatsuha said listlessly. "I'm fine."

---end part two---